The King and Queen of Gotham
by halfbloodprincess725
Summary: She was an innocent doctor in Arkham. He was the Clown Prince of Crime. Together they became the King and Queen of Gotham City; and God help anyone who disrespected the Queen. Joker x Harley Quinn oneshots.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is my first Batman fanfiction and I'm going to combine the original DC Universe with DCEU (cough cough Suicide Squad). This fic is going to be a bunch of one shots between Harley x the Joker, but each chapter is going to be based on a song from the Suicide Squad soundtrack. Enjoy!**

 _Harley Quinn_

 _I need a gangsta_

 _To love me better_

 _Than all the others do_

"Hello." That red, twisted smile put an uneasy feeling in my stomach. I hadn't even been in his room for three seconds and I was already regretting my decision to work on his case. I wordlessly sat down into the leather chair across from his bed. He sat up and sneered. "I said hello to you, sweetie. The least you could do is be polite and smile." I fought the urge to roll my eyes and put on my best fake smile. "You know," he began, settling back into a laying position, "I can always tell when a smile is genuine." And he left it at that.

"I'm not here to befriend you," I said flatly. "I'm here to help cure whatever is wrong with you because no one else in Arkham dared to step foot in your cell." He ignored me. "Now," I moved past the silence to begin the actual evaluation, "can you give me a name to call you by? This will help during the curing process so I can become familiar with your motives." I had my pencil and paper ready to write down whatever ridiculous name this man decided to give me.

"The Joker." I wasn't ready for that. I stared at him skeptically to see if he planned on adding any more. He didn't. What kind of a name is "Joker" anyway? It makes him sound like a—well—clown. And based on his cheap face paint and bright green hair, that's probably exactly what he is. "But you can call me Mr. J." He finally decided to add. He gave me a wink with those dark green eyes and it sent shivers down my spine. There was something about it that was almost…attractive.

"I feel like this should be mutual," this time the Joker was the one to break the silence. "Can I get your name, sweetheart? And while we're at it, do you happen to be dating at this particular moment?"

What kind of _question_ is that?

"You should already know your doctor's name, but I guess no one told you. I'm Dr. Harleen Quinzel." Pause. Should I continue and answer the second part to his question? "And…no I'm not—"

"NO?" The Joker practically yelled it. He leaped up from his bed with an animalistic glare in his eye. Damnit. I should've lied. He made his way towards me and I carefully watched every little step he took. "How could someone as pretty as yourself," he gently caressed my hair. I should've put it up this morning. Damnit damnit damnit. "not have a boyfriend?"

"I don't know," I had to think fast. "I mean, I just broke up with a guy a couple weeks ago." Plausible story, I guess. The Joker leaned down next to my ear.

"Are you interested?" He growled. My face was turning red and he must've noticed because he came even closer. "I get the feeling that you _are_!" Joker's tone sounded like a little kid in a candy store. I was starting to sweat. His hands ran down my shoulders until they reached my hands and he softly touched my palms. It put butterflies in my stomach. I didn't know where this was coming from, but I needed it to stop. I could not fall in love with my patient. I could not fall in love with my patient. I could not fall in love with my patient. I kept repeating that mantra until I felt his hands slide down to my hips. I jumped out of the chair.

"Today's session is over. I will see you tomorrow at 3." He looked like a lost puppy as I exited his cell, but once I closed the door, I saw a wicked smile spread across his face through the corner of my eye.

As I walked back to my office, I kept touching the exact spaces where he had put his hands. I still had a floaty feeling from him approaching me. I was becoming attracted to him by the minute. But I couldn't. I had to stop this.

One last time I told myself, "I will not fall in love with my patient."

 **There you go! I hope you enjoyed! It didn't really have anything to do with the song, but it sorta fit in there. Let me know what you guys think!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter/Part 2 is up! Thank you to everyone for all your support for the first chapter—I didn't expect such good feedback :)_

 _The Joker_

 _I started a joke_

 _Which started the whole world crying_

 _But I didn't see_

 _That the joke was on me_

It was almost too easy with how fast I had put young, naïve, Harleen Quinzel under my spell. I spit out stories and she gobbled them up no problem. Abusive father? Check. Haunted childhood? Check. Hatred for Batman? Check. It was annoying how emotional she got over my "memories", but I have to admit, she was the only one who actually seemed to care about me. She was brave. And she was in love. Perfect.

"Mr. J," her sweet voice echoed in my ears as she entered my room. It only took four sessions for her to start calling me that. For two months I've never heard her say "Joker".

"Whaddya want, sweetheart?" I turned around to face her and flashed her my best smile. Her face turned red.

"I have the equipment you ordered. It's in my office under lock and key. No one saw me bring it in, don't worry." She fiddled with her hands nervously. The equipment she was talking about was a machine gun and a couple grenades. I had convinced her to bring them to me, and in return, I would offer her escape and protection. The kid proved successful.

"Mmmm," I growled and motioned for Harleen to come closer. She stood right next to my bed, holding my file in her hands. I got up from my sitting position and leaned in until our noses were practically touching. I smirked. "And after you help me," I began, running my hands along her arm, "we'll get you all fixed up." She gave me a blank stare and no answer. I grimaced and squeezed her bicep until she whimpered. "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah…yes…I did," she nodded her head slowly and bit her lip from the pain in her left arm. I let go and grinned.

"What are you waiting for then?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

ACE Chemicals brings back horrid memories. I still remember vividly being thrown blindly into a vat of burning acid, losing my tan skin and dark hair. And now someone else was going to share my story.

Dr. Quinzel anxiously followed me up dozens of stairs, continuously glancing down at the chemicals. I could tell she was scared. Good. I reached out for her hand and she took it. Step one of my plan was complete. She had gained my trust and was willing to do _anything._

We reached the highest point of ACE and I planted Harleen right near the edge and right over the vat of bubbling, greenish-yellow liquid. She stood rigid, as if the tiniest of moves would send her off the balcony. I paced in circles around her, examining the "before" picture one last time. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back in waves and framed her face nicely. Her glasses added an element of sexiness to her, and they seemed to enlarge her icy blue eyes.

"Would you die for me?" I broke the silence and started the procedure. She turned her head to face me.

"Yes," she said rather quickly. There was a hint of desperation in her voice that put a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. I stepped closer to her.

"That's too _easy_ ," I whispered, bringing my lips close to her ear. "Now, would you live for me?" She took longer to respond.

"Yes," she said this more passionately than the first one. Her eyes burned into mine and I clenched my fists in excitement as I tried to stifle a laugh.

"Careful. Do not say this oath…thoughtlessly," I brought my hand to cup her chin and I felt her shiver underneath my touch. "Desire becomes surrender. Surrender becomes _power."_ I paused. "Do you want this?" She nodded in my palm.

"I do," like a bride at a wedding, Dr. Harleen Quinzel is turning more into Harley Quinn by the minute. She never took her eyes off me.

"Then say it." No response. " _Say it._ Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty—"

"Please." She whispered. There was that feeling in my stomach again. The one that I couldn't get rid of whenever I was around her. It was growing stronger.

"You are so good," I pushed my body against hers and I felt her relax against me. I let her hair run through my fingers and I placed my lips softly on her jawline. I swear she almost fell to the floor. I gave her a little nudge and she starting walking to the edge of the balcony. She looked at me one last time before she fell backwards into the vat of acid ten stories below.

That was it.

I started walking back towards the stairs, but something, _something_ was pulling me back. It was that deep feeling in me. Not…love? No. Harleen is only a pawn, someone I'm using. My body wouldn't let me take another step.

"Damnit," I growled. I whipped around and threw off my jacket, ready to go rescue the new Harley Quinn. Diving headfirst into the chemicals, I had a million thoughts rushing through my head. What was I going to do once I pulled Harley up to the surface? Is she going to be happy? Is she going to even be alive? I broke the surface of the water and delved into the deep container, reaching out my hands to find hers. We came up together and as soon as she opened her eyes, I planted my lips on hers. The butterflies in my stomach intensified and I slid my hand down her back. When we broke, she grinned.

"Say hello to the new and improved Harley Quinn," she pulled me down to meet her lips again and it felt _great._

Harleen Quinzel was gone forever.

 _Thank you so much again for your support! Let me know what you think so far by leaving a review._


	3. Chapter 3

_It's been a while, but I hope I can update this and keep a consistent schedule with it….Enjoy!_

 _ **Harley Quinn**_

 _(Heathens)_

 _You're lovin' on the freak show next to you_

 _You'll have some weird people sitting next to you_

 _You'll think "How'd I get here sitting next to you"_

I woke up in an unfamiliar place. This wasn't Arkham. The bed was soft and warm—a nice change from the stiff mat at that mad house. The curtains were drawn and the room was silent; it was probably night time. I turned to find a clock and saw the time read 3:37 AM. I always had trouble sleeping in a new bed.

The air reeked of expensive cologne and…was that gunpowder? It wasn't an everyday combination of smells, yet I found it almost intoxicating. _Where was I?_ I didn't remember much from the night before. The last thing I could recall was leading the biggest escape mission in the history of Arkham Asylum and then….heading to ACE. Everything after that was like a dream, and I had no recollection of it.

There was a crack in the window that let a sliver of moonlight flood in and it hit my hand. It was deathly pale. But I didn't feel sick or nauseous or anything. I lifted up the covers to find a rather scandalous red and black, lacy ensemble that did a horrible job of covering anything. I loved it.

A rustling sound came from my right and I almost fell out of the bed. _Who is that?_ I thought frantically. Who would have the gall to sleep inches from me while I'm half dressed? The only person that I made contact with in the last 12 hours was…..the same person that I had led out of the asylum. I stifled a gasp as I turned my head to confirm my suspicions. Sure enough, the man next to me had equally white skin, a toned back, and bright green hair. I felt my heart racing and butterflies in my stomach as all the memories suddenly came flooding back to my brain. Immediately after the breakout at Arkham I was taken to ACE Chemicals, bathed in a vat of acid, and changed my look forever. It was where Mr. J and I shared our first kiss. It was where I felt his hands upon my skin for the very first time. It was where Harleen Quinzel died.

 _Harley Quinn._ That was my name.

"Mmmm," a low mumble came from the Joker and I once again turned my attention to him. I could see countless tattoos, the black ink contrasting against his light skin. They were so intricate and beautiful, not to mention the sculpted shape of his back was enough for anyone to get weak at the knees. I found myself reaching a hand out to touch them. Not a second after I placed my fingers on his shoulder did he hurriedly turn around and grab my wrist.

"What are you doing?" He demanded in a deep growl. He had a death grip on my wrist which was sure to leave a mark. I jumped back in shock.

"I'm sorry. I—I just wanted to see—" I stammered, a lump in my throat.

"Rule number one," he let go of my wrist, which I protectively covered against my chest. Mr. J moved so that his back was facing me again. "Don't touch the masterpiece."

"Yes, sir," I said quietly, before falling back into a restless sleep.

. . . . . . . . .

The next time I woke up, sunlight poured into the room. As soon as I opened my eyes, I felt a throbbing pain in my temple. That acid must have damaged more than my skin. For the first time, I could see the room clearly. I was lying in a bed that had cream colored sheets, with a thick black fur comforter at the foot of it. The walls were a deep purple color and the room seemed extremely spacious. Probably because there was no other furniture in the room. Thinking about the logistics of Mr. J's room confused me—it was hard to imagine the Joker living someplace that felt like home. I always imagined his residence resembled his mind: dark and complicated. I shifted my body and saw that the space next to me was empty. _Great_ , I thought. Now I have to find him in this strange house.

As soon as I got out of the bed, I noticed a mirror on one of the side walls. An unrecognizable person stared back at me. This girl had pale, smooth skin all over, and bleach blond hair. She didn't have glasses, but she could see clearly. It took me a while to realize that it _was_ me.

"Jesus Christ," I breathed out, now getting a look at the lingerie I wore to bed. Half was a ruby color, the other charcoal. Everything was lace except for two hearts that were perfectly aligned with my breasts. The skirt barely covered my butt, creating the illusion that my legs went on forever. Harleen would have found this repulsive. Harley, however, found this outfit sexy. I got excited at the thought that Mr. J had to undress me to put me in that.

"Uh, Ms. Quinn," a voice from the corner startled me. I whipped my head around only to see a tall, brawny man standing awkwardly. I wonder how long he was watching me admire myself. "The boss wants you downstairs." I don't say anything. After a few silent seconds, he turns to leave.

"Wait," I call out. He stops in his tracks and stiffens up when I talk to him. "Who are you?" I ask skeptically.

"Johnny Frost," He extends a hand that I don't take. "I'm the Joker's right hand man. I do anything he asks, and since you're here now, that means I have to listen to you, too." I liked the sound of that.

"Well, take me to him then. What are you waiting for?" I demand. I could get used to a personal servant. Growing up, I was always the one who was everybody's waitress. Johnny Frost nodded and I followed him out the room.

"Good morning, dear," Mr. J had that heart melting smile again as I came into the room with Johnny. He was sitting at a table, looking over tons of pieces of paper. Evil plans no doubt. I wondered when the last time he looked at them was. He was in the asylum for quite a long time. "Did you sleep well?" His kindness surprised me. Did he not remember that just a few hours before, he practically took my hand off scolding me? I looked down at my wrist and sure enough, it was red and raw. I rubbed it a little bit, which didn't go unnoticed. "Deepest of apologies for your wrist there," he clucked his tongue, "you just startled me while I was sleeping…that's all." He gave a throaty laugh. I shivered from the harsh sound, then I remembered I was still barely dressed and Mr. J could see anything that he wanted to. _How degrading_.

"I'll tell you what," the Joker stood up from his workplace and strode over until he was inches away from my face. I could feel his breath tickle my skin, his blue eyes penetrating mine. It took everything I had not to kiss him or fall to the ground. Or both. "Since you seemed _so_ _enamored_ by my tattoos, how about you get your very own? Hmm?" He caressed my shoulder. I had never thought about getting a tattoo. I'd always imagined that they would hurt like hell, but, then again, that was Harleen thinking. I was a new person.

"Why not?" I tried to play it off like it was no big deal, but my adrenaline was rushing just from the thought of having a needle push against my skin constantly. I couldn't wait.

"You think it over while I go get everything set up," Mr. J whispered. He started walking away then threw one more response over his shoulder "Get ready."

. . . . . . . . .

The brown leather recliner became sticky with sweat as I anxiously awaited my first tattoo. I was strapped down loosely, "So you don't move too much," Mr. J had ensured. It didn't hurt and I could still shift my body weight easily, but it still brought back those flashbacks to the asylum. Where the tables were turned and he sent thousands of volts of electricity through my brain.

"Knock, knock," Mr. J walked into the room holding a tattoo gun and ink refills. "Have you decided what you want?" The answer was no, but I didn't want to disappoint him. I figured I'd stall to buy some extra seconds to think about it.

"Yes," I lied, smirking. "But you won't know what it is until I point it out myself. Why don't you come untie my hands, Puddin'?" That was the first time I used that word, but it rolled off my tongue so easily. Mr. J seemed taken aback by it and he looked like he was about to refuse my request until he stopped himself and thought about it.

"Fine," he agreed, "but I don't want any dirty tricks, Harls." That was a new nickname too.

He came over and undid the ties around my hands, then pulled up a chair next to the recliner. He put on that signature purple glove and started the tattoo gun. The buzzing of the tip made me squirm. _Am I really doing this?_ I thought.

"What'll it be? Big? Small? Detailed?" He pushed me for an answer. Except I still didn't give him one. Instead, I slowly brought my hands down to the hem of the lingerie that I was _still_ wearing and lifted it up until it rested above my belly button. I was trying to tease him, like holding out a bone for a dog, but I couldn't tell if it was working. He stared blankly at my midsection.

"Here," I dragged a finger from one hip bone to the other. His gaze followed my every move. "Make it say…'Lucky You'. I'd like to reward the guys if they get that far." I winked. If Mr. J was angry when I tried touching his back, that was nothing compared to now. I swear I saw flames in his eyes as he leapt from the chair he was sitting on and grabbed my chin, yanking my head to face his.

"You're….mine," he said the words slowly, making sure I understood them. Although his sudden movement startled me, I couldn't stop there.

"Aw, come on, Puddin," I mocked, "I hope you don't think I'd leave you this early in the game." That got to him, because he let go of my chin, sat back down, and went to work on my first tattoo.

About an hour later, I finally heard the tattoo gun turn off. The room became quiet. I couldn't help but watch Mr. J as he cleaned up—paper towels were everywhere, there were some spilled ink cartridges, and at some point it must have gotten hot, because a maroon shirt was crumpled on the ground, and the Joker was shirtless as he wrapped the electrical cord around the gun. I tried not to stare too much, but I could get lost so easily looking at each detail of the dozens of designs on his chest.

"Well?" He asked impatiently. I craned my neck to get a good look at the new accessory on my body. It was perfect. The cursive was impressive, considering it came from the hand that drew scribbles that said "Ha Ha Ha" all over. The end result was exactly how I pictured it; the "y's" trailed down below my panty line, almost enticing the reader to go down further.

"It's—It's just how I imagined it, Puddin," I smiled and made myself make eye contact with him. He came next to me and seemed to get lost in the work that he'd just done.

"I'm glad," he made a low, guttural sound in his throat. I loved it when Mr. J talked in that deep, sultry voice. It was a definite turn on. He put a hand on the chair, centimeters away from my bare stomach. "I suppose you're wondering what you'll be doing everyday now that you don't have such a stuffy doctor job to worry about." I hadn't, if I was being honest, but I let him continue. "It's a simple job, really," his hand ever so close, but still refused to make contact. I was tempted to move my own body to meet his delicate fingers. "You'll be in charge of communications, storing any materials or devices, driving, and detonating any explosives. Secretarial work, if you think about it." That was when he finally touched the spot below my rib cage. I shivered under the cool, masculine feel of it. He traced random patterns on my skin while I tried to control my breathing. After a few moments, I finally got the courage to bring up my hand and rest my palm against the back of his, trapping his hand in between. He let out a content sigh and continued talking.

"But the most important thing that you'll be doing," he brought his other hand up and let his fingers draw a line from my collarbone to my shoulder, slipping off one of the straps on my top. "Is making sure that there's nothing that could possibly make me….angry." He said the last word so quietly I barely heard it. I swallowed and moved my eyes to match his gaze.

"Never," I agreed. I let go of his one hand, expecting him to turn around and walk back to his work space. Instead, he placed both of his hands on my new tattoo. I flinched a bit, as the skin was still sensitive. He brought his lips down to mine. _Yes!_ I shrieked internally. _This is what I wanted, Puddin._ I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down a little harder than I should've, and he made that clear by giving the freshly tattooed skin a slight pinch. But it didn't hurt. It only made me want _more._ I arched my back until my hips were pressing against his hands and he took his cue as he slid his hands down even farther.

" _Please,"_ I moaned against his mouth, _"Pretty please,"_. And by God did he deliver. Mr. J was a wonder at multitasking. While giving me pleasure in one area, he was also repeatedly pressing light kisses all around my face and neck. No one had ever been able to give me what I wanted as well as he was. It only seemed to last for a couple seconds when I felt an oncoming rush of pleasure. I pushed my hands against his back, forcing him to get even closer to me.

"Harley…." He growled. This was so quick and I didn't want it to end. But I knew deep down that it had to. The Joker didn't love anybody. He couldn't. He didn't know how. I might as well try and make it last as long as possible.

"Puddin," I whimpered as he pulled away. I tried to get in one last kiss, or even a peck, but it stopped as soon as it had started. Mr. J gathered his things and started to walk out of the room before casting a smirk back my way.

"I expect to see you again tonight to help me with my plans for Batman. After all, that's what you came here for," the laugh that followed was painful. Did he not go through the same thing I did a minute before? Did he not express the same feeling that I had? He left me alone in this dark, damp tattoo chamber; my lingerie was slipping off and my hair was a mess.

"But when's my next tattoo?" I asked no one in particular.

 _Ugh this was so long but I couldn't stop writing! This couple is so dynamic and complicated I love to write about them. I hope you enjoyed this chapter & I kind of came up with my own backstory as to how Harley got her first tattoo. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated!_


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